Just For Fun
by Laurus Nobilis
Summary: Donna finds a way to make people and herself happy. SPOILERS for "End of Time".


**Just For Fun**

This whole writing thing had two different causes, really.

First: The thing about winning the lottery was that you got a lot of free time. For the first few months, Donna and Shaun travelled around the world. She discovered that she loved traveling, even when it was sort of improvised. _Especially_ when it was improvised. It was fun and exciting, just to make it all up as they went along. But they did return home and settle down, after some time, and then she didn't have a lot to do. She wasn't the kind of person who could just sit around doing nothing, either.

Second: She still had those strange dreams. She didn't understand _why_ - at first she had blamed it on stress, but by now she had to admit that it didn't made sense. She was relaxed, she was happy, and even so she kept dreaming about the oddest things and waking up in the middle of the night.

What really bothered her was that she couldn't remember them properly. When she woke up, she only had a vague idea of what she had dreamed about, and yet at the same time she _knew _that it had been long and detailed and that she was missing huge chunks of it. It was unnerving.

"You should write them down", Shaun told her once, while they had the same conversation yet again over breakfast. "Maybe that'll help you remember."

"I don't know," Donna replied. "It's not that I remember when I wake up and then it starts fading away. That's what happens with _regular_ dreams. When I get one of _these_, I just... As soon as I open my eyes, all I know is that there was a lot more stuff going on. More people, even. It's as if I was watching a movie and as soon as it's over I forget half the characters."

Shaun didn't quite know what to say to that and, to be honest, she couldn't blame him. What _was_ there to say? But she agreed to try, at least. There was nothing to lose. Worst case scenario, she got frustrated again. It wouldn't be much of a difference from her usual reaction. So, the next time she had a dream like that, she turned on the lights and started jotting things down.

It worked about as well as she had expected. All she had was a vague setting (something about a volcano), a few unconnected facts, and fuzzy memories of people - even though there had been a lot more around, she was sure of that. It didn't matter to her that she didn't know _how_ she knew that. She just did. Her first reaction was to crumble the paper into a ball and toss it far away from her.

Then she changed her mind. All right, so it didn't help her figure out what the rest of her dream was. But that didn't mean that it was completely useless. She had a setting and characters, didn't she? And - well, not much of a plot, but that could be fixed. She'd just make it up as she went along. Not that she thought she'd come up with anything great, but there was no harm in trying. She did need a hobby.

That was how it started. How it became what it was now... Donna still wasn't sure. It had been just for fun, after all. She made up stories from the bits and pieces she knew, adding things that seemed to fit, and others that looked entirely too crazy at first sight but somehow worked. It wasn't what "really" happened in her dreams (she was quite certain of that, somehow) but at least it made entertaining stories.

Because they _were_ entertaining. That was the surprising part. When Shaun said he liked them, Donna just laughed and shook her head and took it as the very, very biased comment of a doting husband. When her grandfather agreed – well, he was just as biased as Shaun or more. But then _her mother_ told her they were good stories. She didn't sound as if she was just saying it, and she had actually, honestly laughed while reading them.

That had to mean _something_. So Donna decided to take the risk. _At least to make them stop pestering me_, she told herself; _at least so they can't say I didn't try_.

… and then all of a sudden she was a published author, and people were calling her style "refreshing", and she got fan mail telling her how her stories had made someone laugh that day. It was amazing. It wasn't great literature, of course, she would never have claimed that, but it was something that she had created and it made people have _fun_. It was the best feeling in the world.

Signing books came pretty close, though. Donna wasn't going to deny it, she loved getting attention and it was about time she got some. Even if sometimes she got attention from the strangest people – like that bloke with the bowtie. He couldn't even be in his thirties yet, and he dressed like a grandfather. An _old-fashioned_ grandfather. And he was just standing there, huge grin on his face, never mind all the people waiting in line right after him.

"Wow," he said. "_Wow_. It's you! It's really you!"

"Yup," she replied. "It's sort of necessary for the whole signing thing."

"I am so glad that you're writing these," he went on, as if he hadn't heard a word she'd said. "Really. So, _so_ glad. It makes so many people happy! It makes _you_ happy! It does make you happy, right?"

"Absolutely," Donna said, now with a grin that matched the stranger's. Okay, so it was a weird question, but it was obvious that he _meant_ it; she couldn't bring herself to call him on it. Besides, there was something so odd about him… "Do I know you?"

For a moment, the strange man's face darkened just a little.

"… ah, no. Not really, I guess. I just – I'm glad I didn't miss this," he said, and all of a sudden he was cheerful again. "I just bought all of your books! Oooh, sign this one! The one with the giant space wasp, it's my favourite."

"Really? It's one of my favourite too!" she replied, as she took the book he offered. "So much fun to write… So, who do I sign this for?"

"John," he said. "John Smith."

"All right then, Mr Smith – here you go. Have a nice day."

"Thank you," he told her. "Thank you _so_ much. For everything."

Then he disappeared into the crowd, before Donna could even reply. Well. That was… odd. She stared after him for a moment, but the line of people in front of her didn't give her time to think too much about the whole thing. Soon enough, she was completely distracted again.

Ah, well. At least she'd made someone happy.


End file.
